Chapter 2

"Yes... sir," I reply without looking at him.

"Come with me."

I follow him. His back is broad, powerful. His knuckles still bear traces of dried blood. He smells of expensive perfume... Something sweeter and richer, maple syrup.

Every gesture seems calculated before it's made, like a predator. For a second, his gaze becomes strangely penetrating, almost instinctive.

Something wild runs through his every move, as if he were fighting to maintain control.

When he opens the office door, a huge desk dominates the room, along with papers, a window covered by blue curtains, with a smaller desk off to one side.

"This is your place, Elara. Although you should clean yourself up first," he orders, with a lopsided smile and a small cut under his lip.

I look at him wishing I could erase him from existence.

"Of course... This morning some idiot ruined my clothes," he grumbled ironically, raising an eyebrow.

His hazel eyes shamelessly scan my body. An inexplicable heat burns my stomach.

His gaze attracts me and frightens me at the same time; he nods.

"Vanessa Reed will give you your first assignment. The report is due at noon."

As if she had been waiting behind the door, a tall woman sways as she enters. She has waist-length black hair and green eyes filled with contempt.

Her skirt is shorter than her education.

She leaves the papers and walks away. Before leaving, she tries to catch Roman's attention... But his gaze is already occupied.

In me.

"Are you hot?" He suddenly asks.

I blush.

"What? I..." I hesitate, watching her smile curve, dangerous.

And somehow, I know that nothing in my life will ever be under my control again.

"If you wish, you can close the window and turn on the air conditioner," Roman mumbles, typing steadily at his computer.

"No, I'm fine like this."

I'll review the documents. A quick glance is all it takes: I'd better get to work. In half an hour everything will be ready, all that's left is to print.

"What are you printing, Elara?" Roman asks, fixing me with those hazel eyes that seem to scrutinize something deeper than my appearance.

"Didn't you tell me the report was due by noon? Well... There you have it."

"What?... Impossible," he whispers, so stunned his entire body goes rigid.

I take the stack of papers, carefully arrange them in a file, and hand it to him personally.

"Wow!... I can't type that fast."

"I didn't write, sir... I used Excel. It was very easy," he murmurs, almost humbly.

"Hmm... I see... I don't know much about Excel. What do you think, Elara, if you teach me?" he mutters, studying each sheet with fascination and something in his expression makes my heart race for no reason I can explain.

"What should I teach him?" I ask as I sit down in my chair.

"Let's use Excel!... What do you say?... Today at my apartment at eight?"

My heart clenches, my thoughts tangle, and of course, every rational thought in my head screams no.

"Of course!" I reply without even thinking.

"Perfect!... I'll send you the address to your phone."

I glance at the bright screen of my computer. The sequence of numbers overwhelms me, my breath catches in my throat. I can't believe I accepted such an invitation on my first day here.

But it's too late to regret it now.

The polished mahogany door opens. Vanessa Reed walks in as if nothing were amiss.

"Blackwood!... We leave at three today, remember," she informs him in a syrupy and unbearable voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Vanessa Reed... You go ahead... I have to work. And please, knock before you come in," Roman whispers, as if I were deaf.

"What?... What are you saying, Roman?" he asks, pretending not to understand.

"Get out!" he orders furiously, pointing at the door.

Her silky black hair swirls over her shoulders. The low-cut neckline of her ample bust is damp with sweat. She frowns and turns her bitter gaze toward me.

Rage oozes from every pore; envy courses through her entire body.

Roman stands still, paralyzed, but there's something about his posture: a contained tension, as if a force beyond human control were struggling to break free. After the door slams and the scene unfolds, he just sighs and continues with his work.

I'm still getting used to mine. A vague silence drifts through the office, and the stifling midday heat prevents me from continuing.

"Sir... May I turn on the air conditioning?"